In the Hands of God

When trying to figure out how to title this entry, the title of the new Newsboys CD, "In the Hands of God" was the only thing that sufficed.

That's because my son truly was in the hands of God yesterday.

Mondays are my day off, and as such, allow me and the fam to run errands and have fun. We went to Costco yesterday to get some essentials and to just pal around after London's 18-month checkup.

All was fine until I had the idiotic notion to let my son play in a structure he had no business being in. Savannah and Liberty were an aisle over from us as I decided to hoist my son up into the fully assembled playhouse that was about 5 feet up on a shelf. I thought it would be fun for him to sit up there for a sec, and then we'd move on.

I had him within arm's reach, and he seemed to enjoy the little clubhouse, and was being cute, saying "Whoa" and a whole bunch of other intelligible things. But all of the sudden, he backed away from me, and I had this horrible feeling that something bad was going to happen. And it did.

I was aware that the shelf provided the "floor" for the playhouse, but was unaware that the playhouse itself was wider than its "floor." So I never would have guessed (and really, who the hell puts their kid up in one of those things!?!) that London would fall into a gap on the other side of the playhouse where the floor -- the shelf top -- ended.

I heard a bang and looked up and saw my son hanging by his head, stuck in the hole. I leapt up onto the shelf and pulled my son from the playhouse, as I began to hear my wife scream. As I sprinted to the front of the store, blood was pouring from his mouth -- a terrible, horrifying scene I will never forget. I was in shock, and had no idea what had happened.

By the time I reached the front of the store, I screamed to someone "HELP! He's bleeding and I don't know what to do!" Someone ran up and offered gauze to stop the bleeding, and it was at that point I realized that all of London's top teeth had bitten through his bottom lip. It was horrible.

The ambulance soon arrived, and they checked London out and decided that they didn't need to transport him, a discussion that took place while I waited in the car with Liberty, who also was crying.

When I loaded the rest of my family into the car, I completely lost it.

We got to the Kaiser Sunnyside E.R., and London proved how amazing he truly is. Although he was in a completely blood-soaked shirt -- he was still his charming self, waving and saying "hi" to the people who walked by.

The doctor said that London didn't need stitches, and instead cleaned the wound and put a liquid bandage on it -- a compound similar to superglue -- and said that would protect the wound from opening for a day our two. The doctor said there probably won't even be a scar on the underside of his bottom lip... but even if there were, it wouldn't be visible to the average person. On the inside of his mouth, London no doubt feels the worst canker sore he's ever had in his short life.

I'm having a really hard time right now with this. I made a stupid decision. I put my boy in danger, and it could have killed him. The image of him pinned in that hole haunts me constantly, and I think that had London not been in the hands of God, he might not be with us today. I'm so thankful for that. I'm so humbled. I'm so ashamed. I've never cried so much in my life. It's safe to say that yesterday was among the worst of my life, and it definitely was the worst as a parent.

Every time I hear him say "ow" about his mouth, or see him have a hard time eating or sleeping, or look at the wound itself, my heart hurts. I know all is forgiven by God, London and even Savannah (her grace really makes no sense!), but I'm not letting myself off the hook for this one. I'm devastated by the consequences and the potential consequences of my own ignorance. Yes, we were just trying to have fun, but I put my son in critical danger. How reckless! How not-worth-it!

Never again. I'm the cautious parent now. Please pray for my son to heal quickly, and that this wouldn't affect him emotionally or physically somehow in the long-term.

Weird dream

Had a weird dream last night...

I was browsing the Sandy Post Web site, and clicked on a particular article (no idea which one), and to my surprise, found a reader comment at the bottom of the story that said something to the effect of:

"Marcus... I want your soul.
You can't hide from me."
From: " "

Very strange, indeed. I have some theories as to the spiritual significance of this dream, but what are thoughts? Interpret my dreams for me, people!

I've moved on!

The following is what I wrote for my farewell column. After a major move of God, I moved on from The Sandy Post to become Communications Director at East Hill Church.

It's a bit surreal; all you have to do is browse what I've written on this blog to find that my relationship with The Post was that of a battered spouse; abuse, but there's still some sort of twisted, codependent love at the bottom of it all holding it all together.

Well, that's over now, and a new chapter begins. Hopefully this means I'll be able to update this more. But the fact that I've already been at the new job since Oct. 3 doesn't show much promise yet!

Anyway, here's what I wrote to say goodbye:

...

In the Broadway musical version of “Jekyll & Hyde,” Dr. Henry Jekyll espouses a phrase we’ve probably all heard before, and all accept: “The only thing constant in life is change.”

And boy, is that true for me. In the past year, I’ve had my first child – a beautiful boy named London, moved the entire Sandy Post office to a quaint little house, seen an almost complete turnover in my staff and, as of Father’s Day, learned that I will be the father of another baby.

A pregnancy test I bought as a joke for my wife led to the happiest news of 2008, that we would be having a daughter. My wife, Savannah, is about halfway through the pregnancy already, and we are just beaming at the thought of little Liberty Haven Hathcock coming into the world.

It’s going to be exciting and interesting to see the differences between these babies, who only will be 15 months apart. Since I already have my mini-me, I’m really hoping to see some gorgeous blue eyes and lighter brown hair on this one, but then again, I won’t be disappointed if Liberty ends up looking like her old man.

We picked her name because it means “freedom,” and her middle name means “place of rest.” So many young ladies these days are slaves to our celebutante, popularity-driven culture, trying to fit in and craving to be noticed. Right from the beginning, we want our daughter to know she is free to be the person God made her to be, and can “rest” in that.

Change begets change it seems, and my “insta-family” is among the reasons why that after Friday, Sept. 26, I will leave my beloved position as Editor/General Manager of The Post to become Communications Director at East Hill Church in Gresham.

For the past three-and-a-half years, The Sandy Post has been another baby of mine, in a way. It’s been more than just a job that allows me to make ends meet; it’s been a lifestyle.

I’m proud of what we’ve been able to do in the time I’ve been here. We’ve consistently led Community Newspapers by increasing our circulation in an age that sees newspapers shrinking, not growing. We’ve focused on Sandy, Boring and the mountain villages like never before, and booted out the Gresham news and other stuff that doesn’t apply to us. We’ve made the design more fresh, and produced the kinds of stories that were easy to read, yet full of information.

I’ve had a great team that has never taken itself too seriously, but always took doing the right thing the right way seriously – even if that means rocking out to Led Zeppelin while doing it. Besides my current team, names that come to mind from the past include Claudia Stewart, Cara Buck, Eric Hendricksen, Ryan McVicker, Matthew Hunt, Bill Wilson and Michael Cade.

Yes, our little paper has come a long way, and it is my sincere hope that under your new Editor/General Manager Steve Brown – who will introduce himself in the coming weeks – The Post will continue to flourish. I have a hunch it will be just fine.

The good times have been many. Some of my favorite include rapping with Reporter Garth Guibord in the 2007 Sandy Mountain Festival Parade (and really, any of the parades in which I have participated); writing an editorial that led to the City Council creating a holiday of sorts, George Bruns Day (I’m still waiting for some official celebrations); winning the Society of Professional Journalists’ Rookie of the Year award as all my coworkers held paper cutouts of my goofy head; emceeing both the Chamber Awards Banquet and the Walk For Literacy; and getting SAM bus driver Myrna Gonzales’ name wrong in the paper – twice.

I can’t tell you how I’ve been touched by people’s kind words over the past few weeks. It makes it hard for a guy to leave.

But really, this isn’t goodbye. I intend to keep my journalistic skills sharp by freelancing for The Post and Community Newspapers, and I hope to keep living here in Sandy. I also plan to stay involved in the community – so, for better or worse, you haven’t seen the last of me.

And now, in the tradition of graduating seniors and those dearly departed, I leave my last will and testament for The Post:

To Reporter Garth Guibord I leave my “Tales of Abbygail” posters, my Tollgate Mondays, my Thursday cookies at Subway, the phrases “on tap” and “new digs,” and my superior headline-writing talent. He can have my laptop, too, I guess.

To Sports Editor Darrell Jackson I leave any stories I could have written about Roslyn Lake or Abbygail, any of the baby stuff we left at the office and my ability to generate some heated online comments – oh wait, you already have that.

To Circulation Manager Justin Murphy I leave my Little Red Riding Hood costume. To advertising rep Jenn Groza I leave my desk, since you only have four desks now.

To incoming Editor Steve Brown I leave the 2 a.m. deadline nights (and the delightful smell of Joe’s Donuts in the nighttime air), my Little Red Riding Hood costume, coupons to Smoky Hearth, my beloved “executive” chair, a Costco box of ibuprofen and the amazing responsibility of telling these great people’s stories.

Thank you, Sandy, for allowing me to be a part of your lives. This isn’t goodbye; it’s just see ya around.

We're awakening!

Hey! It's been some time since the Matrix was loaded (yeah, I couldn't resist the analogy, cheesy I know...) — but a lot's been going on in July and August.

For one, I went to Creation Festival to spend some special time with my Heavenly Father and to Georgia to spend some special time with my earthly father. I learned much from both trips, and I'll have to get into that later (since I'm on deadline right now), but I thought I'd share a few song lyrics that struck me today.

I've listened to the Switchfoot song "Awakening" dozens of times, but I'd never really paid attention to the words except "we're aWAKEning!" But today, I took a listen with new ears, and something struck me, almost to the point of tears.

The past three years have been full of tremendous growth, but also tremendous challenge and pain. Things I've been passionate about have taken a back seat to duty, to things I MUST do to survive. It's been a major growing up process, but my spirit has taken a clobbering or two, and things like family, friends and my relationship with the Lord have been bludgeoned here and there due to my current mission — mission, good word for it.

Read these lyrics from the second verse of "Awakening." You'll see — as you consider what I just said, and the fact that things could be changing for me very soon, and the fact that I finally acknowledge God's call on my life to be a worship leader — that this has special meaning.

Last week saw me living for nothing but deadlines
With my deadbeat sky, but
This town doesn't look the same tonight
These dreams started singing to me out of nowhere
And in all my life I don't know that I've ever felt so alive, alive
Here we are now with falling sky and the rain
We're awakening
Here we are now with the desperate youth and the pain
We're awakening
Maybe it's called ambition
You've been talking in your sleep about a dream
We're awakening

Can you believe that? The word "deadlines" is what got my attention, because right now that is how I feel. But also, I truly feel like my dreams are singing me out of nowhere, and that since Creation, I am awakening. For too long I was asleep while talking about a dream. That dream is to be awake, and the only way you can step into that dream is to WAKE UP. We're awakening!